


Wrong Number

by fortheloveoflestrade



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, au johnlock, fem!johnlock, i don't believe in changing their names, i don't know who the "he" is because i wrote this ages ago but i like this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 03:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5812201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortheloveoflestrade/pseuds/fortheloveoflestrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fem!Johnlock AU prompt from tumblr:</p>
<p>"it’s the middle of the night and i’m walking home alone in the dark and there’s this guy following me and he’s starting to gain 				on me and i found this phone booth with a lock on the door and i tried to call my best friend but my hands were shaking so badly i accidentally dialed the wrong number and i don’t even know you but help me"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong Number

John Watson isn’t afraid. She isn’t.

John Watson is a soldier. She served in the army for five years. She isn’t afraid the man who appears to be following her. John knows five different ways to put that man in hospital even without her gun.

Her hand feels too light without her gun. But John is not afraid. 

She picks up the pace incrementally, not enough to tip off her tail. There’s plenty of streetlight, and John Watson isn’t afraid. 

She peeks over her shoulder while reaching into her purse for her mobile. The man has gotten closer still, probably only about five yards back, rather than the ten yards between them when John first noticed him behind her.

Her mobile is in her hand, but it is black. She presses all the buttons, and nothing. Battery’s dead. But John is not afraid. 

She continues, slightly faster still, trying to put some more distance between herself and the man. 

Up ahead, the streetlight fades. There are only a few more lamps before they end and the streets go dark. John Watson is not afraid, and then she sees it, a telephone box. With a light on inside, and if she’s lucky, a latch on the door. She checks her purse again for some loose change, and finds enough to make a call.

She risks one last glance at her shadow.

_Oh, God,_ she thinks. _It’s him._

Her body seizes up, but she forces herself to get to the phone box. She forces herself to calmly pull open the door, slide herself inside, and lock it behind her. The man approaches. John Watson is not afraid. She picks up the receiver and holds it to her ear, gripping it with white knuckles and watching until the man passes.

He passes. He is illuminated by the light in the box. It isn’t him. It’s just a kid, probably twenty or so, with his headphones in. He walks on, not even looking back at John.

John is breathing heavily. Her grip on the phone is painful. She slides some coins into the phone and tries to dial Harry’s number. She thought it was him. She thought he had found her again. But he didn’t. So why is she still shaking so much?

Her hands, trembling, slip and hit the wrong button. She curses herself and goes to hang up, but after one ring she hears someone pick up.

“Who is this?” they ask.

John sighs softly. “Sorry, so sorry for ringing this late, I dialed a wrong number.”

“I was waiting for a call, anyway. Are you alright?” the voice asks, sounding more curious than concerned. But it’s an attractive voice nonetheless, and John’s the one who rang them, so she feels obligated to answer rather than just hanging up.

“I’m fine, now. I thought someone was following me, so I ducked into this phone box, but I must have mixed up the numbers.”

“Are you safe? Is the person gone?”

“Yeah, it was nothing, just some kid with headphones. He’s wandered off, by now. Thanks, and sorry, again.”

“What’s your name?” the phone asks her. John’s head has cleared enough that she can tell, it’s a woman’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Um,” John pauses, unsure of whether or not to answer.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” the woman offers, teasingly.

John rolls her eyes. “I’m John, John Watson.”

“Sherlock Holmes,” the voice tells her. "There should be a cab coming to your location in about three minutes. Get home safe, John Watson.”

The phone clicks, and then the mysterious Sherlock Holmes is gone.

“Thanks?” John says to dead air and an empty phone box. She hangs up the phone and leans back against the glass. _What just happened?_ , John thinks to herself.

True to her word, the cab Sherlock promised her arrives in a few minutes, and John slides out of the phone booth and into the backseat surprisingly more relaxed than she would expect to be after such an experience. She gives the driver her address and begins going over the phone call in her mind, wondering who this Sherlock person is and why they were so concerned with a stranger’s safety.


End file.
